


Glass Walls

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Omnics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Jesse/Zenyatta* Just a quick shower sex scene





	Glass Walls

**Glass Walls**

It is rare that Zenyatta showers.

His model is hydro repellent, though the coating has to be applied every year at least once, and twice for the parts of his chassis where the circuits are visible due to constant wear, but it is not a practice he likes, more so since he can do self-maintenance without the need for streams of water…

But there are exceptions.

The ‘exception’ stands behind him under the hot jet of water, hands travelling down the curve of his back, fingers lingering on his chassis, hotter than the water droplets, making Zenyatta shiver.

Fingers caress the nodes of his back, one by one, dig into the mess of his wires, slippery with omnic-brand cleaning soap, and rub the dirt away almost gently, though Zenyatta jolts every time they rub against one of his sensory nodes.

The casual caresses are not fingers slipping by mistakes, and the shivers the touches cause to Zenyatta are sought after, one by one, and when the touch travels lower, one hand cupping the curve of his ass, then lower, moving between his legs to search between them, Zenyatta lets out a strangled, quiet chirp, and is rewarded by a rich, deep laughter.

“You look good from here,” Jesse murmurs close to his auricular receptors, and his voice makes Zenyatta’s fans spin a little harder.

Rivulets of water cascade down from above them in the small, narrow space of Jesse’s private shower, so hot the glass of the shower is humid and fogged, and Zenyatta smudges it with his hands as he twists his head around.

Jesse looks at him with lidded eyes, hair wet and clinging to his head in a way that should have been amusing if it wasn’t hot, if Jesse wasn’t looking at him with eyes burning with desire, lips tilted up in a pleased smirk, and Zenyatta’s forehead array flickers, falters and restarts, not a single one of his jieba lights coordinated with the others.

His optical receptors travel down to Jesse’s collarbone, to his sun-kissed skin, to the faint contours of scars on his chest and arms and then lower, following a trail of hair down to what he can see of his erect cock, half-hidden from his sight by the arm Jesse has between Zenyatta’s legs.

It is still an enticing view.

“Like what you see?” Jesse sounds even more smug than before, and Zenyatta returns his stare to his face.

“I would like it more if it was put to u–” Zenyatta’s voice box shatters into static when Jesse’s hand slides a little more, finds his valve, and slips just the tip of his middle finger inside.

Jesse has been touching him for a long time now –minutes lost in his memory logs, hands and fingers caressing his wires and his chassis, cleaning it, lips kissing the base of his neck, then where his shoulder blades are– and Zenyatta is primed and ready, has been since the start, since Jesse pulled him in the shower with him, still dressed and spluttering, with the excuse to get cleaned together.

His valve is aching, and wet and slick, and his cock aches for Jesse’s touch.

He turns around, dislodging that finger, and his hand move to curl around Jesse’s neck, grabbing him by the nape and tugging him closer, urgently.

“Jesse McCree,” he murmurs, synth crackling, and Jesse’s eyes go wide, both hands coming to rest against the glass on each side of Zenyatta’s head, “If you don’t do something right now, I will have to do it myself… and you will not be invited.”

Laughter comes like a tide, Jesse’s shoulders shaking in mirth, but he’s moving even as he laughs, pushes Zenyatta against the shower glass, both hands sliding down to part his thighs, looks down to the beautiful sight of Zenyatta’s glowing valve leaking, his slick mixing with the shower jet, and rubs the tip of his cock against his folds.

He’s teasing again, and Zenyatta chirps and juts his hips forwards, trying to catch the head of Jesse’s cock against his entrance, against his nub, aching and burning, but Jesse grinds against him slowly, makes the burning worse as he moves, and Zenyatta wraps his arms around his neck, trembling and shivering.

“ _Jesse_ –”

“Yes, darling.”

He cants his hips and pushes.

Zenyatta gasps as he’s stretched, Jesse’s cock sliding inside smoothly, with only a little bit of burn, until he bottoms out, their bodies pressed together, Jesse grunting and Zenyatta chirping every time Jesse breaths.

His legs tremble from the position, and Jesse tilts one of his thighs up so it can wrap around his ankles before he moves one hand lower to cup his ass.

Zenyatta groans, his prosthetic cock squeezed between them, the glass of the shower wall slippery and cold against his back, sensors going high-wire with the double sensation clashing with the heat of the shower water and of Jesse’s body, and he spasms around his dick.

“Move,” he asks, breathless, his fingers digging into Jesse’s naked, wet shoulders.

“So demanding,” but Jesse sounds raw, strained, filled with the same desire that curses in Zenyatta’s circuits, and it does not take him long for him to obey with a snap of his hips.

It’s wet, and slippery, and delicious –Zenyatta’s back slams against the glass, he slips a bit lower, hands clinging to Jesse’s back even as Jesse continues to fuck into him, hard enough that Zenyatta bounces against him, every motion makes Jesse get deeper.

He fucks him slowly, though –stops every few thrusts to grind against him, biting on his lower lip, shuffles them around, his other hand holding Zenyatta’s back so he doesn’t slip.

The friction is good, but it’s not enough –Zenyatta uncurls one arm from around Jesse’s back and wriggles it between their bodies, wrapping it around his own cock, leaking against their midsections.

He burns, and Jesse is hard and hot inside him, and everything feels like it’s too much –the pleasure, the heat, the feeling of Jesse against him, around him, _inside_ him…

“Jesse… Jesse please…” he tilts his head up, offers his neck to him, and Jesse surges forwards, teeth bared, to bide down on his pistons, hard enough to dent them.

Zenyatta cannot feel it, but it’s the idea of being marked, of Jesse leaving something on him that can be seen, that he can feel and not repair is…

“Zen… you feel so good,” Jesse murmurs, reverently, mouths Zenyatta’s neck, seeks out tiny sensors underneath his jawline, kisses them, and then thrusts hard into him.

Zenyatta seizes up, losing his footing, but Jesse has him –he doesn’t drop him, strong arms balancing them both, and with both legs coming to wrap around his back, now Jesse has more leverage.

He fucks into him faster now, seeking their finish together, and Zenyatta clings to him, the fingers curled around his cock tugging in rhythm with Jesse’s cock pumping inside him.

It’s fast, and good, and when he comes, he does so all over Jesse’s chest, teal slick covering his round, soft belly and his abs, pale against his darker skin.

Jesse curses, loudly, hides his face in Zenyatta’s neck and then pulls out, leaving Zenyatta empty and twitching, fumbles to grab himself, and then finished with two strokes of his own cock, emptying himself all over Zenyatta’s chest, his white come mixing with Zenyatta’s teal lubrication.

They pant and slump against one another, water already washing their mess away, Zenyatta’s fingers burying themselves in Jesse’s wet hair as he tugs him towards his face.

“Again,” he asks, his body still shivering, primed and sensitive, and Jesse gives a full body shudder, even as he kisses all over his face plate, his cock giving one last twitch.

“Again?” he asks, almost incredulous, but Zenyatta knows he’s teasing –he knows how long an omnic can go, and that they just started.

“Again,” he repeats, and his trembling hand finds Jesse’s metallic hand, tugging it towards his own valve, still twitching between them. “Or would you wait until the water runs cold?”

Jesse laughs, amused, open and soft, and his fingers slide against Zenyatta’s glowing nub. “Anything you want,” he murmurs.

 


End file.
